


Better Than Gwent?

by xxenjoy



Series: October prompts 2020 [25]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, M/M, Public Foreplay, Public Sex, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Voyeurism, gwent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: Geralt gets worked up over a game of Gwent, Jaskier is the one who profits.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: October prompts 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950757
Comments: 11
Kudos: 276





	Better Than Gwent?

**Author's Note:**

> I am very sorry if this is full of errors, I ran it through Grammarly but I am too tired to re-read. I plan on editing all of these properly when I am not writing a fic a day :)

This, like so many other things in their life recently, starts with a game of Gwent. It's been one tournament after another lately and because Jaskier is a very patient companion (and because Geralt's life needs a little more happiness in it) he lets Geralt drag him alone to each and every one of them. 

Tonight they're in Dorian and Geralt is playing against a very determined dwarf whose name Jaskier failed to catch. He blames the wine. If there is one thing Geralt is as good at as killing monsters, it's Gwent and he's been winning the majority of his games, leaving them significantly richer and Geralt particularly generous. He's been providing Jaskier with drinks all night and Jaskier is nothing if not thankful. 

He's _hammered_ when Geraly starts a new game with a pretty Elf whose name also slips his mind. The wine. It's a shame, he thinks because until she's joined by a very large and menacing looking man, Jaskier was considering asking her upstairs after the match. But the man with her makes no mistake about who she'll be leaving with and Jaskier sighs to himself. 

But that's fine. It's been a long time since he's had a good night out with Geralt and from what he's witnessed so far, Geralt is having a _very_ good night. So Jaskier isn't expecting a bad reaction when he lifts one of Geralt's arms and slips into his lap, but he's not exactly expecting to be welcomed. 

"Hey!" Geralt's opponent shouts, "he's cheating!" Geralt just huffs a soft laugh and transfers his cards from his right to left hand, circling his now free arm around Jaskier's waist. 

"Believe me," he says, flashing a quick grin at Jaskier, "if he was helping me, you'd win with certainty."

Jaskier would be offended, but he's right. No matter how many times Geralt has explained the rules and even talked him through it, Jaskier cannot grasp the concept of Gwent. Nor why anyone would want to spend hours on end playing it. The firm hand on his thigh also goes a long way to distracting from the insult. Jaskier smiles across the table and the woman Geralt's playing gives him a warning look before returning to her cards. The man with her keeps his eyes on him but Jaskier isn't worried; even if they did start something, even drunk, Geralt would protect him. 

He settles against Geralt's chest, looping an arm around his neck and looking down at his cards like he has any idea what any of them are for. He hums thoughtfully and Geralt, surprisingly, holds him a little closer, letting his hand slip over his thigh. It distracts Jaskier from the cards and he shuts his eyes instead, basking in the attention.

He focuses on the heat of Geralt's hand, now rubbing circles into his thigh and the sounds of the room around them. Heat coils in his gut, but he ignores it; it wouldn't be the first time Geralt got him worked up when he shouldn't. Only this time Geralt doesn't stop like he normally would. The more into the game he gets, the firmer his grip gets on Jaskier's thigh and the further in his hand slips. 

Jaskier presses his nose into Geralt's neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and leather and liquor that only feeds his growing arousal. For someone so frequently covered in monster guts, Geralt smells _good_ and Jaskier can't help himself. He presses his nose right under Geralt's jaw, parting his lips just so and running his tongue up the length of Geralt's throat. In his head it's playful, but Geralt shudders under him, fingers digging into the meat of his thigh. And _oh_ , that's fun. 

He does it again, just for fun and Geralt growls low in his throat. It's a warning, but there's no anger behind it and Jaskier loves nothing if not pushing his buttons. So he leans in again, letting his breath dust over Geralt's skin, but he doesn't move to do anything more. It's enough. 

Geralt shifts under him, and despite the game, does his best not to move his hand from Jaskier's thigh. If anything, it moves higher, and his fingers slip further between his legs. Jaskier loses all sense of restraint at that point, moaning softly against Geralt's neck. 

He's paying so little attention to the game that he doesn't realize it's over until Geralt's other hand rests on his knee and his opponent says, "good game."

"You too," Geralt says and his voice is rough, thick in a way that goes straight to Jaskier's cock. Which, in this position, is far too close to Geralt's hand and swelling rapidly under the attention. 

Jaskier mumbles, pressing his nose back into Geralt's neck with a soft moan and Geralt shifts under him turning his head so he's breathing into his hair. 

" _Jaskier_ , he breathes and whatever he was going to say next is lost because he slips his hand between Jaskier's legs, pressing his palm against his cock. He inhales sharply and Jaskier whines as Geralt presses harder, fits his hand around him. "Fuck."

Jaskier shifts his legs, spreading them just slightly to give Geralt better access and he's quick to take advantage of it, squeezing him through his trousers and grinding the heel of his hand against him. And _fuck_ , it's a damn good thing they're sitting at a table because Jaskier is rock hard under Geralt's touch and they're already putting on quite the show. 

Another challenger slides into the seat across from them and Jaskier groans softly under his breath. The man across from him looks him up and down with a smirk and Jaskier realizes what he must look like; the man probably thinks he's a whore. Which is... probably fair. He's feeling rather dishevelled and his face is hot with lust and it would probably be his first assumption as well. Especially in the lap of a highly intoxicated Witcher. Jaskier decides he'd be quite happy to be Geralt's whore and the assumption doesn't bother him one bit - unless the newcomer tries to join in. 

Jaskier is generous and open-minded but absolutely, positively, unequivocally against letting anyone join in on whatever this is with Geralt tonight. Another time, perhaps, but this is unprecedented and if he's only going to have one night with Geralt, he's not about to share it. He makes to shoo the man away, but when he looks back at Geralt, he's already got cards in his hand and he gives Jaskier a pleading look that no one could say no to. Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into his ear and whispering against his neck. 

"Can you wait one more game? I'll make it worth your while." He nips at the skin below his ear and presses a kiss to the reddened skin. Pulling back, Geralt offers a smile and, perfectly straight-faced, wraps his hand around JAskier's cock and squeezes. 

Jaskier may not be terribly good at Gwent, but he likes to watch Geralt play. He loves the intense focus, the absolute passion and thought he puts into playing - no matter who his opponent. But right now Jaskier is shaking with the restraint it takes not to grind up against Geralt's hand and everything else is a blur in the background. Geralt's palm sits curved around the jut of his cock, unmoving save for the faint twitch of Geralt's fingers when Jaskier leans forward to groan at him. 

He shifts in Geralt's lap, pressing himself closer and is absolutely delighted when he slides his hand between Geralt's legs and finds him fully hard and straining against the leather of his trousers. It's too much for Jaskier to ignore and he presses his palm against the bulge, rubbing him through his trousers. 

Geralt remains maddeningly calm, though he presses down a little more firmly on Jaskier's crotch. Not exactly the effect he was hoping to have, but a little moan slips from his lips and he drops his forehead to Geralt's shoulder. It suddenly becomes very important to him when this game is going to end. 

Geralt wins the first round and the second ends in a tie. Jaskier groans loudly, pressing his lips to Geralt's throat and kissing up to his ear. The third round starts and Jaskier whines. 

"Patience," Geralt hums, lips quirked in a smug grin. Jaskier whimpers at him and Geralt runs his fingers up the length of Jaskier's cock, rubbing against him before pulling up and slipping open the clasp on Jaskier's trousers. Maybe one more round won't be the end of the world. 

Geralt's hand slips into his trousers, wrapping around his bare cock and Jaskier nearly chokes on the wave of _need_ that rushes through him. Jaskier nearly doubles over, hips twitching up into Geralt's fist. At this point, the entire inn could buy tickets and Jaskier would be happy to give them their money's worth. He doesn't even care that the man across from him is watching or that he's blatantly touching himself under the table. In fact, it's a little arousing in itself, knowing someone else is getting off on this little game. 

Geralt continues stroking him absently, apparently unaware of how fucking hard Jaskier has to try not to just tear his clothes off right there. He lets his head loll, rocking into Geralt's touch with a little gasp. He's being intentionally obscene, but neither Geralt nor his opponent seems to mind and Geralt shifts under him, readjusting so Jaskier's ass is pressed against his cock. 

He lets out a little groan and Geralt holds him closer, rolling his hips against him. Jaskier is tempted to pull his trousers down and see if Geralt will fuck him right there, but he hears a smug _pass_ from above him and the muttered _fuck_ that follows from across the table. 

Immediately, still thanking the other man for a good game, Geralt rises to his feet and Jaskier fumbles, somewhat delayed, after him. He's in a fucking state - trousers open and slipping down his hips, cheeks flushed dark, hair ruffled - but he couldn't care less about it when Geralt's arms wind around his waist, slipping down to cup his ass. He quickly collects his cards from the table and Jaskier spares a parting glance to the stranger as Geralt walks him back toward the dark hallway. Their room is at the end of it, but Jaskier isn't sure he'll make it that far. 

Geralt pushes him into the wall, tugging Jaskier's shirt from his trousers as he leans in against him and it's all Jaskier can do not to haul him forward and kiss him stupid. Apparently, Geralt has the same thought. His mouth crashes down against Jaskier's, hot and greedy and Jaskier would collapse under the urgency of it if he wasn't pinned between Geralt's body and the wall. 

He whines into his mouth, acutely aware that they're still in full view of anyone in the common room and parts his lips, encouraging Geralt to deepen the kiss. And he does. Jaskier moans at the first press of his tongue between his lips and reaches down for the hem of Geralt's trousers, wrapping his hands around them and tugging him close. He slides on hand down, cupping Geralt's cock through the leather and makes a quick decision that the trousers are much too thick and he needs to be out of them. Now. 

He pushes Geralt off of him and takes a step after him to fumble with the buttons on his trousers. He kisses him hard and Geralt's hands fall to his hips, before slipping lower. Jaskier has only just finished unbuttoning Geralt's trousers when he's unceremoniously lifted off his feet and slung over Geralt's shoulder.

"Geralt! You brute, let me down! I wasn't finished!" 

He gets an unsympathetic chuckle in response and Geralt squeezes his ass as he carries him toward the bed. Once they're in the room, Jaskier expects to be put down, but Geralt just crouches down next to their things, slipping his cards back into his pack and grabbing what looks like a vial of oil. Jaskier groans at the implications. 

Geralt carries him over to the bed and drops him on it, climbing up after him before Jaskier even has a chance to right himself. But _gods_ he doesn't care when Geralt dips down and catches his mouth in a heated kiss. It's not graceful, what with Geralt crawling up over him and Jaskier doing his damndest to rid Geralt of all his clothes, but he feels it all the way down to his toes. Or maybe that's the wine. Geralt shoves Jaskier's trousers down far enough to free his cock and wrap a hand around him, and Jaskier finds he's unconcerned about it any longer.

The only thing that matters is Geralt's hand around his cock, until it's Geralt's mouth around him and then that's the only thing that matters.

He writhes in the sheets, already wound so tightly and eager for release. But Geralt is shockingly talented with his tongue and Jaskier wants to stay like this forever, floating between overstimulation and greed, desperate for more. And Geralt - wonderful, perfect, Geralt - gives it to him. 

It's a bit of a struggle to get him out of his clothes like this, but Jaskier does away with his doublet and shirt, happy to see them gone, as Geralt leans on one elbow and slides Jaskier's boots and trousers off. Satisfied, he slides further up the bed again, pressing his shoulders under Jaskier's knees and pressing them up. 

Abruptly, Jaskier is displaced and Geralt pulls off his cock, sitting back on his knees. Jaskier watches as he pulls his shirt up over his head, just barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch. But as his eyes roam the planes of his chest, he realizes he _can_ and as Geralt pushes his trousers down, Jaskier climbs to his feet. 

He slips one arm around Geralt's neck, sliding the other up his chest. For a moment, Geralt indulges him and when Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock, Geralt's hips snap forward hard.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathes, " _Jaskier-_." 

Jaskier's eyes drop shut, letting the sound of Geralt's voice wash over him. He sounds needy and so fucking sexy, Jaskier doesn't quite know what to do with him. Without thinking, he turns them around, pushing Geralt down against the mattress and climbing up over his chest. He's quick to snatch the oil from Geralt's hands and Geralt just watches wide-eyed as Jaskier pulls the cork and drizzles the oil over his fingers. 

As he reaches behind himself, he watches the way Geralt's nostrils flare, the way his eyes, so dark and wide dart from his face to his hand and back again. Jaskier presses between his cheeks, rubbing against his hole with a little groan. Geralt watches, enraptured as Jaskier presses in, his eyelids fluttering as he works himself open. Geralt is bigger than anyone Jaskier has been with maybe ever, and he takes the time to prep himself properly, despite being able to hear the way Geralt touches himself.

Eventually, the sound of it is too much and he pulls Geralt's hand from his cock, shifting back into place. He doesn't even care anymore that Geralt is still wearing his boots and trousers because, from this position, he can see every little expression that flits across his face. From here, he can see how Geralt's eyes drop shut and his mouth falls open when he touches him. 

Jaskier adjusts himself, pressing the head of Geralt's cock against him and sitting back on him. His own eyes drop shut at the initial pressure, but Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips, thumbs rubbing light circles in his skin. 

"That's it," he whispers, "fuck Jaskier, you're perfect." He reaches up, pressing his thumb to Jaskier's bottom lip and Jaskier sucks the digit into his finger, sliding his tongue around the tip as he finally settles on Geralt's cock. 

He drops his head back, shifting his hips and rising just slightly off Geralt's cock before dropping onto him again. He gets a loud groan in response and immediately does it again, desperate to draw more of those sounds from Geralt's lips. It only encourages him and Jaskier rides him hard, uncaring of how loud they are or who could hear them. Geralt feels incredible inside him and beneath him and nothing else matters. 

He's leaning back, propped up on his hands, when Geralt sits up, wraps an arm around his waist and flips him onto his back. Jaskier lets out a high laugh and Geralt kisses the sound from his lips as he shuffles them back into position. He buries himself deep, rutting into him as Jaskier coils an arm around his neck. The other goes up to hold the bedframe as Geralt's hips dislodge him with every thrust. 

Their lips barely part for a second as Geralt picks up momentum, slamming into him hard with every thrust now. He manages to hit the perfect spot every time until Jaskier is writing under him, one hand clenched hard in Geralt's hair and the other still struggling in vain to keep him steady. 

Geralt thrusts hard, snapping his hips and there's a deafening crack but Jaskier is unaware of anything but the pleasure that zips through him as he comes. Geralt shifts onto his side, stroking Jaskier through it even as they're displaced onto the floor. Unfazed, Jaskier slips his other arm around Geralt's neck, breaking away from his lips long enough to look at him. 

"Fuck Geralt, you're amazing, darling. Are you gonna come for me?"

Geralt presses his forehead against Jaskier's, mumbling a soft, _yeah_ as he shuffles up closer, knees on either side of Jaskier's hips. Jaskier groans as he's bent practically in half, flopping back against the floor and letting his knees hook around Geralt's neck instead. Geralt's so close now, he can't do much but rut into him and Jaskier encourages him, breathing soft words of praise against his lips as Geralt tumbles over the edge after him. 

Geralt collapses on him almost immediately and they tangle together, Geralt with his head on Jaksier's chest and Jaskier with his hands in Geralt's hair. His chest is still heaving and he's not sure he'll ever catch his breath, but when Geralt looks up at him again, he can't help but kiss him, sinking into the kiss even as Geralt wraps his arms around him and rolls them onto their sides. Breaking away for a moment, he grins at Jaskier before leaning in and whispering conspiratorily,

"I think I've broken something."

Jaskier glances back at the bed now behind them, one corner of which is bowing significantly lower than the others and he turns back with a grin, running his hands up Geralt's chest.

"D'you suppose they'll charge extra for that?"

"Mm, probably," he hums and he smirks, rolling on top of him again, "I suppose we'll have to make it worth our while."


End file.
